Chapter 15: Passion

I awoke tenderly from beams of sunlight through green curtains. The Light passes through the fabric bathing the room in an emerald sheen. I jump out of my bed awaiting the turmoil of today.

I find a chair with clothes folded square and cleanly. A note graces the top folded so the paper stands upright. The message, “For you,” beams in elegant letters. Hah, hah, what a blatant display of wealth.

The clothes ooze style. I spot a bright steel colored vest complemented with a red longsleeve shirt including black buttons. The pants emit practicality with brown leather belts lacing a black pair of pants. The suit even includes red leather shoes and sock sleeves with silk underwear for warmth. The outfit as a whole must have been at least six gold pieces. Horses have been bought for less.

I sling the outfit on then walk towards the mirror. I have never actually seen myself in a mirror before. Mirrors require hours and days of hard labor and many raw materials during production, so only the very wealthy can afford decent ones.

I have seen my visage through rough metal mirrors, but they show no detail. They only show smudges of color.

I look at a very strange looking male. My hair literally shines dark blue in light. Otherwise my mane absorbs color leaving only blackness. The surreal effect throws me off balance as my hair can look half black and half blue easily. I wear a tan coat of skin with no marks or blemishes probably because of Deluge.

I clank my near blindingly white teeth. Deluge regrew them with his rampage. My face sharply angles with far less fat than my age would suggest. My unusually thick neck juts from my chest. My shoulders are surprisingly broad, but my arms spindly hang never touching my body. I have a rather small amount of muscle though I would consider myself big for thirteen.

Massive in fact. I stand far taller than before my parents death. I rise above five foot when I barely passed four feet before. Deluge reaches for me awaiting for questions.

I think, “What's going on Deluge?”

“Your body mass was unwieldy before. I needed you larger for my purposes. I am simply speeding your natural growth.”

I say in exasperation, “A man is lucky to grow till they reach five foot and three quarters if he eats well. You cannot expect me to believe my short, scrawny self would even reach this height.”

He says with surprising resolution, “I shall not stop this process. As my host, you are so weak it hurts to acknowledge the fact. None of your species's women want such a small male anyway. As for your neck, you attract blows toward your face. I can't have you keel over from a simple hook to the head.”

I reply, “Ladies enjoy conversation and charm far more than phys-”

He interrupts, “You reek of ignorance. Tell me the same lies after you have dated five of your females. They simply hide their intentions better than men. Your tallest, most muscular, and most successful males gravitate with females. The ugliest and poorest will never experience the same level of sexual success.”

I think, “Your outlook is bleak.”

“And yours filters through warped perception.”

I reply, “Eh. Perhaps.”

His opinion is his own. I am woefully inexperienced with females either way, so my opinion matters not.

I put on a blank and sullen expression as I walk outside my room. Keeping up appearances has proved an effective tactic, and utilizing the skill of acting allows for deft maneuvering.

Deluge pales my skin and darkens the circles underneath my eyes. As annoying as he can be, Deluge carries very useful traits as well.

I find a maid waiting outside the room for me. She stands in shame as she instigated my outburst yesterday in the bathroom. Ending this problem conclusively will prove fruitful.

I say, “Let us forgive past indecencies. There is no need for bad blood over what happened yesterday. I also overreacted from childish concerns. Yesterday was a dark and difficult day for me. Forgive me as well.”

She replies, “No, you reacted as to be expected of your name Sir Jack. I am glad you have forgiven me and I gladly accept your apology as well...Alright, please follow me this way Sir Jack.”

I ask, “What is your name? I can’t always refer to you as the red haired maid can I?”

She lifts her arms as though she’s holding a ball while saying, “Of course! I’m sorry for the inconvenience. My name is Roselia.” She says the last word with a moderate curtsy.

“It is wonderful to make your acquaintance Roselia,” I say with my hand on my chest and a tilt of my head.

We walk briskly towards the dining room where the leftovers of last night’s meal are reheated in a stone stove. I slowly eat my food as though I have no appetite in an attempt at trickery. The chef sees my appearance and simply puts his hand on my shoulder while saying, “It’s ok my boy. It’s ok.”

I finish my breakfast and then ask Roselia to take me towards the auditorium.

There I ask for a violin. Roselia collects one from backstage and I tune the instrument until I satisfy my inner perfectionist. I apply dark rosin toward the bow I use to string over the cords, and I tighten the bow ever so slightly.

The rosin dusts the bow adding friction so that the bow’s string catches the strings of the violin producing the instrument's deep, resonating sound. Dark and light rosins are used depending on how cold the area gets. Since Tahnar lies within a northern region, I apply dark rosin.

I string together different warm-up tunes. Years have passed since the last time I played a violin, but much like tying a shoe, I progress rapidly toward my former glory.

After a couple of songs I play several sad tunes. Convincing Roselia and the other maids will prove important for my future as they speak directly with Geralt.

Initially I poke and prod my previous hardship with my songs. I piece each of my works together one after the other as they sullenly discuss their suffering. I move through the different stages of sadness throughout my life with my compositions.

Initially I brush the assaults of woe easily, but as time passes every note tears and gnaws at my psyche. I struggle holding my composure despite my audience, and I eventually cry gently. I remember all the sad times of my life.

I course through seas better left without odyssey. I wallow in the poignancy of my experiences. I create a symphony of utter anguish as I repeat my magnum opus when I submerge myself within the dark, coagulated pool of blood that is my parents departure from this world. I reveal the void Klessilia and Morne left with their betrayal.

My voice echoes through the room racking the very foundation with quakes of heartache and mourning. My pain strips the stone from the walls. The sound burns the roof until only cinders remain. The strings wail in their conjoined agony poisoning the minds of those who hear and maddening the minds of those who listen.

My symphony ends as my conscious enters my body once more. I look upward finding Geralt, Hemly, several maids, and Roselia all weeping with me. I look downward and pause for a moment. I then leave the room in silence.

Deluge whispers, “You have power Jack.”

“I hold power within my weakness Deluge,” I reply.

I return toward my room. I lie on my bed, and I think of all that has happened in the last year. I have lived what feels like a lifetime of experiences both good and bad.

My thoughts over Deluge’s massacre bounce within my skull.

I don’t understand my own feelings over the matter. On one hand I loath the idea of murdering another, yet at worst Deluge’s actions are simply excessive self defense. The villagers attempted murdering a boy in his sleep, but killing their families...

Well, Deluge decided against killing their children and relatives remaining within the households. He consolidated them instead. I remember their peace. They suffer no longer.

Children without parents, as I can attest, undergo fates of extreme injustice. Orphans either face enslavement and sexual abuse at the hands of malignant villains, or they starve alone in the wilderness.

The children Deluge released from torment float in the waves of unity and eternity within consolidation. The more I think of Deluge’s actions the more I can understand their own unique brand of justice. In fact, his actions seem precise and deliberate rather than emotional as I initially presumed.

I sit upwards and admonish such thoughts. I rely on my father's wisdom in one of his lessons, “My son, never sift and regret your history. Those who dwell in the past cannot peer toward the future.” The words remind me of my goals. I cannot change what Deluge has done. I can only change what I do now.

I stand upward and head towards the kitchen where the chef greets me with a smile. I eat a meal of roast goose with a salad composed of different northern roots. The salad crunches loudly as I chew, and the mild flavor refreshes my spirit.

Roselia walks toward me from an adjunct hallway. She quickly nears me and bows low while saying, “I am so sorry for leaving you alone for so long! You must have been lost Sir. I shouldn't ha-”

I interrupt compassionately, “My orchestration brought tears to mine own eyes. Can I expect another who hasn't seen the same sadness to endure with fortitude and serenity? No Roselia. I expect humanity.”

She blushes lightly at my words then says, “Your words and music are very graceful Sir Jack.”

“Thank you Roselia. Will you please give me a tour of the premise? I wish to understand where I am staying if you wouldn't mind?”

“Of course! right this way,” she says over zealously.

Roselia shows me the mansion and all the rooms that comprise the building. The manor brags of over six guest bedrooms with a master suite, two kitchens beside dining rooms, and three studies with two attached to living rooms.

I chat idly with Roselia when the head maid walks towards us and informs me that Geralt wishes for my company. I oblige.

The head maid, Roselia, and I reach a study where Geralt leans over several papers lined with symbols. Geralt stands as I enter looking grateful that he has an excuse for procrastination. He states with admiration, “My boy. It is good to see you! I see you all have received my summons,” he ends with a gesture toward Roselia and the head maid.

The head maid and Roselia bow lightly then exit the room. He then continues, “Hello Jack. It is good to see you.”

“The honor is mine Sire Geralt.”

“Please, just Geralt. Formalities shan't be necessary for friends.”

I grin in response, “Of course Geralt.”

“So would you walk with me through my garden as I have need for enlightened company. What say you?”

“But of course.”

We walk through hallways until we reach outside into his courtyard. The bushes are cleanly trimmed into shapes of different animals from the fassar till the common squirrel. The winding walkways are embroidered with fragrant flowers like lilac and Lemon leaves. The saturation of colors fill the eyes, but the wasteful display also expresses the overwhelming wealth of Geralt.

After we walk for five minutes I ask, “What do you wish to speak of Geralt?”

He replies, “I want to know where you received musical schooling. Your performance earlier today was...Moving...I wish for the same disposition for my daughter you see. She isn't very artistically inclined so I hope to inject some culture with an experience.”

“I have never received schooling.”

“BAH. You jest. Most of the compositions you play are new to my ears, and your ability to play a range of different sounds begets schooling.”

“The schools I attend are the schools of life. One harbors pain and hunger while the other blinds with the luscious luster of pleasure and satisfaction. If you listen carefully, the notes of life present themselves to you. You simply must be brave enough to use them,” I say with truth in my words.

He pauses for a moment, “So you simply play from experience?”

“Precisely. Clever of you to understand my comparison.”

“I pride myself in my intellect though yours no doubt encompasses my own...Would you mind tutoring my daughter? She doesn't fall far from the tree, and like me, she struggles with artistic endeavors. I think you would influence her constructively,” he asks offhand.

I ask, “What would I tutor? I am but a mere commoner.”

he replies with impatience, “Stop the rubbish Jack. It does not take a genius to see one. You have far more knowledge than your age would suggest. How old are you anyway Jack? sixteen? seventeen?”

“I am thirteen Geralt.”

“Really? You are tall for your age. Hmmm, we shall tell my daughter your age is sixteen as I do not wish for her to be insulted at the prospect of your tutelage.”

“hmm. I could only teach her in music then as tune transcends age. I would believe her writing and arithmetic will undoubtedly be superior.“

“Hmmm. I shall allow her to tutor you as well then. You thirst for knowledge. Correct?”

“Exceptionally so.”

“Good. Now would you mind playing for me as I work? The activity berates my mind with tedious tasks. Music would help greatly.”

“But of course.”

We walk back inside and the head maid walks up knowingly. He planned this? The head maid listens as geralt tells her of his tutoring plan, and the head maid strolls off toward another portion of the mansion.

We reach Geralt’s study, and I play songs of struggle and perseverance for Geralt as he works. At times he seems frustrated, but I play into a lull then gradually lift the sound until the notes roar of victory. He then continues with zeal unbeknown of my schemes.

Afterwards Geralt introduces me with his daughter. She stands slightly shorter than me at the age of fifteen with a very upright posture. She elegantly parades her dress with confidence in herself only present in people who believe themselves superior. She models her hypocrisy with ignorance. She peers downward with a contemptuous glance that disgusts me.

I judge her as a person who excels at seeing the faults of others while believing herself somehow different. Both Deluge and I laugh internally at the irony of my thoughts.

She then says with a sharp, brusque tone, “So you are the tutor hmm? Very pleasant to meet you. I am Antoinette.”

I swallow my pride as she offers her hand, and I bow then gently press my lips against the back of her hand for a mere moment. I say with slight difficulty, “I am Jack. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

She seems pleased with my obedience then Geralt says, “So now that you have met, I would like for the tutoring to commence. Please do listen my dear. He has a fluency and wit few can match. His impression is one you could learn from.”

“Of course daddy. I will listen closely,” she says nonchalantly.

Deluge scoffs, “Oh this shall be fun Jack. She’s just your type.”

I think back in agitation, “Oh yes. We shall grow fond of each other under the oppression of her father and herself Deluge. Very romantic.”

Roselia guides us then we reach an empty study. Several sheets of paper and books are already stacked upon a desk with musical sheets present. I ask for a violin for further instruction, and Roselia accommodates my request.

She then leaves me and Antoinette alone. I solemnly enter a war zone by saying, “Alright, so what do you know of music?”

“More than you probably,” she snidely remarks.

Ah, very witty. This will be fun.

“So would you mind singing the scales for a warm-up?”

“What are the scales?”

Oh shit. She literally knows nothing. Deluge laughs loudly in my mind as I press the sides of my nose’s bridge while saying, “Alright. Will you give me a demonstration of your singing skills.”

She smirks then starts a simple tune with her voice. The music flows acceptably, but the sound falls off pitch causing a rasping sound every fifteen seconds or so. All in all, she offends my ears.

Deluge’s snickers continue as I try explaining the difference between being on pitch and off, but she simply brushes the statements off.

“Look Antoinette. Your song will never move the audience if you are caught upon the very basics of music.”

“My talent speaks for itself. I do not need such trite skills.”

“Alright look. Imagine if you were a carpenter alright?”

“No need. I will never be a commoner such as yourself.”

“Lets use some basic empathy here and imagine you're a carpenter alright?”

She huffs annoyingly, “Alright, I nail wood. What next oh mighty Jack the orphan.”

I pause for a moment. I flush red but I continue, “You can theorize the best of buildings and constructs correct?”

“Of course.”

“But you see, you never work on your ability to hammer nor your ability to measure or use arithmetic for balance and fortitude alright?”

“They come naturally to me.”

“Let's just imagine they don’t. You should be capable of that correct? Of course you are. Now how will you ever reach those grand designs if you can’t even nail a piece of wood without bending the nail to pieces? You can’t. Your creations are locked within your mind forever lost unless someone can do them for you after interpreting the nonsense you spout soaked in nescience.”

I resound with greater fervor than I intend, so she stares at me with ridicule then says, “So you yourself are so versed with the basics. Why don’t you show me the proper way?”

I seethe, “Gladly.”

I pick up the violin and bow, and I string together a simple melody in response. After fifteen seconds I explode into a torrent of panicked tones and notes that blister the ears of the listener. I burst my muscles with such intensity my veins bulge and my muscles burn, yet I continue.

I continue with the an unrelenting series of notes bashing the air with vibrations. The sounds resonate with each other creating a torrent of cracking choruses. I continue long after my fingers lack feeling. I transpose and invert so quickly my arm blurs.

I feel the heat from the resistance of the strings rubbing against each other, but I tread forward. A string snaps, but I continue with a different melody equaling then surpassing the previous intensity. My lips tremble as waterfalls of sweat cascade from my face. My hand bleeds from a cut of the violin string, and my nose starts bleeding as my heart pumps furiously in my chest.

Yet I do not compromise. I do not appease. I do not mollify myself. Another string snaps, and I continue with vertical movements forcing variety where none should exist. My hand gushes blood as my arm creaks under the continued strain. My bones bend. My arm is fire.

Another string snaps leaving only one left. I use my other hand strumming the single cord wobbling the notes creating a strange hum. The final string snaps and I let the violin rest at my side. Antoinette stares aghast at my display. I snap the violin between my arms with a loud bang before saying,

“Do you see what passion can create? Do you see the absolution of effort? Talent and prowess will only hold you down if you let them. This tutelage is over.”

I storm outside the room while holding my hand upward so my blood doesn't get all over the mansion. I step within my personal bathroom and wash my hands. Deluge says,

“HAH, HAH, HAH, HAH, HAH, you criticize my lack of control? HAH, HAH, HAH, then you mentally rip off her face from a mere couple of words. hah, hah, hah.”

I speak over his laughter, “Your sense of humor is charming. Her viewpoint contrasted mine so sharply I might have snapped a little...I befouled my chances here Deluge...”

“All shall be fine. Don’t take life so seriously,” Deluge echoes derisively.

“Yes, it's easy to degrade the doer when you stand gazing from the sidelines. You try handling her.”

“She is a mere ingrate. You simply had to shower her in praise, and she would tell her father to continue the arrangement.”

“...Why don’t you tell of such important thoughts and details?”

“Watching a storm is far more entertaining than the wind Jack.”

Wow. Deluge really developed his conversational skills.

“Well worded Deluge.”

“Of course.”

I walk out from the bathroom with a linen bandage covering my hand. I need these people believing I lack regeneration. I head outside for fresh air then I practice trelling until I am interrupted by Roselia.

“Jack. Geralt wishes to see you.”

“Ah, of course. I shall meet him.”

I walk like a dead man towards my fated lashing. My skills of handling others reek of failure and ineptitude. I reach his study then Roselia vacates the area with haste. Bad omens materialize around me.

I slump into the room with slouched shoulders and a grim outline. Geralt smiles in my direction, “So tell me how did your tutelage go?”

I respond with veiled guilt, “I have done my best.”

Geralt replies calmly, “Ahhhh. So I have heard from Antoinette. So what did you teach her?”

I stare at a dagger coming for my throat as I say, “I tried showing her the importance of passion and commitment.”

Geralt rears a paperweight back and slings the object against my face. My head bursts in pain, and Deluge growls in anger.

Geralt steps right beside the side of my face calmly telling me, “Do you hear me boy. My dear Antoinette comes to my study crying. She tells me that she is sorry for how she has acted these past years and simply tells me she shall change. She then runs out before I may comfort her and locks herself in her room...”

He takes a deep breath then screams, “WHAT. DID. YOU. DO. TO. MY. DAUGHTER?”

Deluge decreases my sense of hearing so the sound only causes slight discomfort. I stay ironclad as I reason, “I merely taught her to focus her efforts. If you would only calm down for a moment then you would realize this.”

The veins of his neck show as he composes himself, “You will evaporate from this world boy. I will erase you from history for this.”

I can no longer hold Deluge back as our wills coalesce. Deluge says, “So you wish my erasure aye?”

Geralt pauses after the change in voice.

“Understand this Geralt. You cannot oppress me. I will tear your entire bloodline limb from limb if you stand against me.”

Geralt’s pause continues. I wrestle control back from Deluge and say, “...So as I teach your daughter ardor, I shall teach you reason. Do you not react overly so? Do you even understand the change in your daughter? Instead of looking down on others she promises to change herself! You completely spurn the situation because of an insignificant emotion.”

I breath before continuing, “I do not give lessons lightly Geralt. You stand upon the cusp of opportunity my friend. You said yourself I am a genius. Believe in your own judgment if you don’t mine.”

Geralt opens his mouth for a second then closes his maw. He then says far more calmly than I would imagine, “Leave me. I will wait for the results you speak of. You will be hanged if the results are not so.”

I turn and strut away with confidence.

I reach my room where I question myself. I literally need training for Deluge. I say,

“While I may be vulnerable to words, you transcend my own volatility with your disposition towards all things physical.”

“...He struck with intent to kill.”

“If he had, then he would have kept swinging till I died Deluge.”

“...I do not claim perfection Jack.”

“Not of yourself Deluge, but you do demand the quality in others.”

“Hmmm...Perhaps.”

I eventually fall asleep in my bed missing dinner as the chaos of the day drains me completely.